Page 97 of Lucky Haven

I tip my head back and laugh. “Would you like to dance?”

“I’m not very good, I’ll warn you.”

“Oh, I’m terrible,” I promise him.

And it’s true, with an inexperienced partner, I’m not fantastic, but we manage, and we laugh a lot, which is a different kind of fun.

As the song comes to an end, I’m about to suggest we go to find a drink, because we don’t need to struggle through another dance, when Cash appears in front of us.

He says my name, low enough in the loud barn that it’s just for me.

I nod. “Excuse me, Reverend.”

Mercy is already pulling Callum onto the floor herself, leaving Cash and me in a bubble of our own. He wraps his arms around me, closer than dancing requires.

I can’t push him away. I don’t want to.

“You look good dancing with Kerr,” he says quietly.

“I stepped on his toes repeatedly.”

“I know for a fact that can be the highlight of someone’s entire week.”

I meet his eyes. Both of us are thinking about that night on the mountaintop. I want to say if only that were enough. Because it almost is. Knowing that’s how he feels is almost everything.

But it doesn’t match how I feel about him, and the gulf is too painful to think about. Definitely too painful to fight about.

So instead I just say, “I’m glad we’re getting a chance to dance.”

He looks at me for a long moment. Then he pulls me closer and rests his chin against my temple.

In his arms, I’m an excellent dancer. In his arms, I feel beautiful.

I could stay there all night, but for my heart’s sake, I’m glad it’s only one song before Zane slings his arm around his brother’s shoulder and announces that his bride wants cake and his new daughter wants pie.

“Are you team cake or team pie?” Mercy asks, pulling me away from Cash as we approach the baked goods tent. Ridge is following her at a loose distance, and Cash falls back, joining his oldest brother.

I only glance back once before surging ahead. “Team tart.”

“Oooh, good choice.” She lowers her voice. “Sorry for pulling you away from Cash, but I need moral support right now.”

I squeeze her arm. “Always. And it’s fine, Cash and I don’t need to be glued at the hip.”

“I know, but then I see the way he looks at you, and I feel bad. Just for a second, of course.”

I laugh weakly, but her observation makes my heart squeeze, because I wish that how Cash gazed at me was as real as she imagines it is. He plays the part of a fake boyfriend a little too well.

Inside the large tent there are two things happening at once, a contest and vendor tables selling individual pieces. It’s chaotic, and I’m trying to keep Zane and Hope in sight, which is harder than I expect. There are a lot of tall cowboys looking for some food before getting back to the dancing—or the beer tent.

I give up trying to go through the middle of the crowd, and I cut over to the contest tables, only to come face to face with Kaitlyn Pelley.

Recognition flickers deep in the teenager’s eyes.

I force a smile as I take in her Junior baking judge badge. “Hello.”

She clutches something tight to her chest, a notebook, and she gives me the tiniest of nods.

I recognize her perfect posture, her composed face as she masks her thoughts. It’s the same careful performance I used to give. And I, too, always have a notebook or a novel on hand. They’re convenient to escape into. It’s a shame she’s been taught to hate me, because we’re more similar than different.